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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294535">Alien vs Predator: Zootopian Prospect</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empress_Imperia/pseuds/Empress_Imperia'>Empress_Imperia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Alien vs Predator (2004), Zootopia (2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 13:14:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empress_Imperia/pseuds/Empress_Imperia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the year 2184, October 21st on the revolutionary multi-terrain colony, Zootopian Prospect, ZV-73. Crime Scene Technician Judy Hopps and USCM Private Nick Wilde are working together to investigate rumors of a mysterious ship that crash landed somewhere on the dense forest planet. It will be a case they’d wish they’d never solved, if they even live to regret it...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue: The Consequence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blood. Cold and thick like the veins it rested in. That was the first thing the serpent experienced when the time came for it to be born.</p><p>It took its first bite, tasting blood for the first time as it sank its silver teeth into the dense tissue of an organ. It bit again, pushing forward at the same time. A third bite tore straight through the organ and collided with bone. Acid spewed from its mouth. Nothing more than a few droplets, but enough to weaken the bone as it pressed on. Flesh ripped and was forced aside. Bone crunched and gave way. Only skin left now, thick and tough like the skin of the serpent. Cold blood everywhere.</p><p>One last bite, then the serpent felt air, hotter than flesh but not as tangible. The air hummed, too, a low quiet hum that permeated everything. The bloodied head rose up past dented armor and ruined flesh, seeing for the first time. The blood was yellow-green, its glow dulled after two hours of coagulating. The world around the host was a mix of dark greys, browns and black. On one side it spied a black sea and twinkling stars, a thick transparent shell separating the metal room from the cold abyss that surrounded the ship. The serpent saw its reflection for the first time, recognizing itself even in infancy. Yellow skin smeared green with the blood of its host. A smooth, curved face with no eyes or nose but a mouth of silvery sharp teeth surrounded by tusks inherited from its deceased host. The serpent screeched, tusks flaring like a flower, drowning out the hum for a short time, before its body slid out the host’s cavity and hit the warm metal floor with a wet smack. The door opposite the massive window was sealed, but it spied another way out, a circular hole in the wall no bigger than the ragged hole it had left behind. The serpent slithered to it, disappearing into the warm comfort of darkness.</p><p>Time passed. The door remained sealed. No one came to check on the body that lay on the black altar that was aglow with blood-red symbols.</p><p>In the deepest, most isolated chamber in the ship, the serpent began to grow. The little stubs in its body became arms and legs, limber and muscled. As the yellow-brown skin stretched and ripped, hands and feet formed from the stubs and became claws. Its tail became segmented, a thick long barb emerging from the tip like a spearhead. From beneath the shredded skin emerged an obsidian shell. Thick black tendrils dangled from the elongated head like dreadlocks. The serpent ripped the last piece of old skin from its arm and stood up.</p><p>The growing was done, and the hunting must begin.</p><p>The ducts were much too small now, so it forced the door open and entered the hallway. It stuck to the shadows as it went, avoiding the square white lights that illuminated most of the passageway. It knew where to go first, having sensed the presence of impregnators while searching for a safe place to grow.  There was one in particular that it had to retrieve at any cost.</p><p>It could sense them now, squirming spidery creatures floating in amniotic fluid. They were moving, it realized all of a sudden. The crew of the ship was taking the impregnators away. Taking them <em>this</em> way.</p><p>The serpent ducked into an alcove and crouched behind the skull of a great six-eyed reptile to hide from two masked crewmembers as they pushed the hovering craft of cylindrical tanks down the hallway. The impregnators were inside, floating almost lifelessly in the pale grey liquid. The one slightly bigger than the others, the most precious impregnator of all, suddenly lunged at the masked creature pushing the rear of the craft, its red ‘palm’ and probing proboscis striking thick glass. Acid was secreted to weaken the glass, only to be instantly neutralized by the fluid. The impregnator floated away from the glass and back to the center of the cylinder, giving up for now.</p><p>When the craft had passed the serpent emerged from behind the skull, only for its ambush to be foiled by a door that descended out of nowhere and sealed off the rest of the hallway.</p><p>The serpent gripped one of the grooves and lifted the door as easily as if it were lifting a fallen sapling, then slid under the gap.</p><p>The masked creature on the other side, one different than the two carrying the impregnators, stood frozen for a second or two. Then the strange object on its shoulder rose up just as three red lasers shot out from the side of the silver mask and pointed straight at the serpent.</p><p>The serpent hissed, ducked the deadly blue sphere that spat out of the shoulder cannon and lashed out with its tail. The thick barb skewered the threat straight through its chest armor and then dragged it forward until their faces were inches apart.</p><p>With a long, drawn out hiss, the serpent opened its jaws wide and the inner jaw shot out in a black flash, punching a hole straight through the helmet. An explosion of glowing green liquid tore out the back of the creature’s head. The creature went limp. The serpent dropped it like the sack of meat it was.</p><p>Blood. Warm and fluid. The serpent paused to savor it before resuming its pursuit of the impregnators.</p>
<hr/><p>In a scouting craft attached to the underside of the Mothership, the two clan brothers placed the parasitoids in the cargo hold and sealed the room tight. Every precaution was taken, every sensor ready to alert them if the cylinders so much as tilted. It was essential that none of the parasitoids escaped, especially the one that contained the queen embryo, not until the ship reached its destination. As for the serpent they’d found gestating inside their fallen clan brother, a lethal injection had killed the abomination in its crib.</p><p>At the bridge, a third clan brother, an elite older and leagues above the blooded joining him on his mission, watched the slowly spinning hologram of their starting point, a small planet of blue and white, one that recently bore witness to one of the greatest disasters of their generation. The loss of the Great Pyramid would be mourned, but its sacrifice had not been in vain; their fallen clan brother had died ensuring that the serpent plague did not escape. A warrior’s funeral awaited him back at Homeworld, but the crew of the scout ship had been given a mission of a different sort. The Great Pyramid was just one of many their ancestors had built; with the royal parasitoid, they could begin anew with another.</p><p>Its wrist computer beeped, signaling that the parasitoids were secure. The elite warrior sat at a great black chair and started the disengagement sequence. With a hiss that could only be heard from inside, the scout ship separated from its mother and blazed away in a different direction. They were on auto-pilot at the moment, flying at a cruising speed of ten miles per second, but with the hyper drive they would arrive at their next destination in a matter of hours. Once they conducted their mandatory orbital survey of <em>Dhi’haka</em>, it was just a matter of locating the pyramid. Once the next pyramid was reactivated and the new queen was born and secured, the Rite of Passage would be preserved for millennia to come.</p><p>As long as nothing goes wrong.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Night Howler</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="xcontrast">
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p></p>
    <div>
      <p>The twin suns blasted out heat like a glowing red grill element, roasting the researchers in Sahara Square, searing the metal and concrete of Savanna Central, and threatening to cause a drought in the Canal Zone. Bruce Greystone, a stocky polar bear with silver streaks dyed into the fur on his scalp, cranked the air conditioning full throttle, and the boar beside him maintained a steady, inconspicuous speed as they drove past the sign informing him and the rest of the convoy that they were now leaving the Tundra Zone. Now they were in the perpetually drenched jungles of the Rainforest Zone, taking the 'scenic' route that was seldom used nowadays on account of the other road saving at least ten minutes of driving. Even that other road was lucky if it got used once a day.</p>
      <p>That thought shouldn't have unsettled Bruce, but it did. Two months ago, that road would be crawling with colonists just going about their lives. He used to hate the traffics jams that would ensue. Hell, a lot of mammals did. Poor bastards should have worded their wishes more carefully. Other than Bruce's team and the marines still standing, only a skeleton crew was left to clean up the mess.</p>
      <p>While there was the monorail, which upon arrival offered a magnificent tour of the colony's main zones, and the boats, which provided passage from a dock on the outer rim of the lake to the docks in the Canal District, only those two roads led in and out of Zootopian Prospect. It was Titanwood Road, the road that cut a thin line through the forest that surrounded the colony, that the company had chosen for the operation. Three vehicles in all, two convertible civilian trucks and a huge armored transport truck in between, made up the convoy that came to a stop at Lionheart's Gate, a sequence of three chambers built into the wall that surrounded the colony. One of two marines who guarded the gate approached Bruce's truck. He was a stocky boar with a half-melted tusk and tired eyes that scrutinised him from beneath the thick khaki helmet as he checked Bruce's documents and waved them through to the first chamber.</p>
      <p>The first chamber, an elongated, octagonal-shaped pipe of a room that was coated orange and grey, served as the antechamber of the decontamination room, or Car Wash as the colonists called it. Bruce's truck stopped just before the six-inch thick door preceding the Car Wash, but he only had to wait five seconds before the door was raised, and a bright green light gave him the go ahead to enter the Car Wash first. His truck entered the Car Wash alone, and he heard the electronic <em>whizz</em> of the door lowering back down again. The vast machine that performed the decontamination procedure didn't behave that much differently from an actual car wash as it got to work, dishing out a thorough foam wash all over the vehicle, rinsing it off with powerful nozzles, applying a layer of car wax over the surface and drying off any water that was still left.</p>
      <p>The entire process took exactly twenty minutes, and by the time the machine was done Bruce was feeling pretty angsty. He checked the timer on his phone: roughly one hour gone, not nearly as much time as he feared had been wasted. He breathed a little easier as he drove into the third chamber and waited for the armored truck to go through the same treatment. Once all three trucks had undergone the industrial spa treatment they drove into the forest beyond the wall.</p>
      <p>"Finally." He grumbled as he double checked the map on his phone.</p>
      <p>The hard part was over, now. They'd made it past USCM and now they were beyond the colony limits. After that it was just a twenty-minute long leisurely drive to the meeting point so they could drop off the package. It was so hot that Bruce could see bright wavy lines on the road, a mirage formed by the rising heat and the sinking cold.</p>
      <p>Bruce checked the timer again; a little over two hours gone and three hours to go. Then he ordered his driver to pick up speed. It was essential that the package be delivered before the remaining three hours were up. Bruce looked over the paper in his large white paw, the little slip displaying the code word he needed to use when he reached their destination. <em>Artemis.</em> After that the deal would go off just like any other deal. The package would be handed over, and in return they would receive a briefcase of cold hard cash. The boss had refused to tell him just how much would be in the case, only that it was essential that the package be sent first, and well before the five hours were up. The other assets were being delivered in a separate convoy, which should be approaching Bellwether Gate by now, clear on the other side of the colony. The mammals they were meeting had made it very clear that the package and assets were to be kept separated at all times. Bruce was one of the few mammals present who understood why.</p>
      <p>He'd been promised a cut, but after everything that happened, he was just glad that it would soon be over. The package would be taken off-planet, the surviving colonists would be given the all-clear to return, and everything would go more or less back to normal.</p>
      <p>Bruce hoped it would be as simple as it sounds. The timer beeped two hours, fifty-seven minutes. They were making good time.</p>
      <p>Bruce received a shock when they turned a corner and saw that the road was blocked by a fallen tree, bluish-green needles strewn all over the place. The driver slammed on the brakes and the truck screeched to a halt two feet from the makeshift barrier. Bruce didn't bother to check the stump to see if the tree had been cut down. Instead he pulled out his trusty revolver and yelled for his men to take up arms.</p>
      <p>The bullets started flying before they could even begin to prepare.</p>
      <p>They were relentless, punching star-shaped holes through the windshield and into his driver. Bruce felt at least two enter his arm and hip before he ripped off his seatbelt and slid down under the dashboard while the two bears behind him smashed open their side windows and aimed with their guns. He heard the whistle of a grenade being fired and watched fire and smoke erupt in front of the truck as the engine went up in flames, tarnishing any chances of making a getaway. The rate of gunfire doubled as his men returned fire, and then there were screams. Bruce reached up with his good arm and adjusted the rear-view mirror so he could see what was happening. The third vehicle had come to a stop to the side of the road, and Bruce could only watch in horror as the occupants were gunned down one by one, splattering the windows with a grisly red pattern. A second grenade finished off the vehicle as Bruce grabbed his phone and speed-dialed Administrator Clawhauser.</p>
      <p>"Come on, come on!" He growled. He heard a wet thud and looked back up at the rear view mirror; the bear in the left had taken a bullet right between the eyes and fallen back against his fellow passenger.</p>
      <p>After an eternity the phone clicked. <em>"Hello?"</em></p>
      <p>"Sir, we're being fucking ambushed!" He bellowed into the phone.</p>
      <p>
        <em>"Ambushed? Where?!"</em>
      </p>
      <p>"Titanwood Road! They've got grenade launchers, so hurry the fuck up and get the-"</p>
      <p>A deafening bang, a flash of light, and the seat lurching cut him off. Smoke filled the interior of the car, and there was a shrill tone in Bruce's ears as he tried to figure out what had just happened. The rear-view mirror was cracked, but he could make out enough to see that the back of the car was now a complete smoldering wreck, the two bears behind him reduced to nothing but blackened scraps indiscernible from the twisted metal and bits of seat. <em>Grenade launcher</em>, he thought. His heart froze when a hint of reflection passed over the shattered remains of the windshield. The ambushers were coming out of hiding.</p>
      <p>He'd lost his gun when the third grenade hit, so Bruce did the only thing left he could do and went limp, hoping the bullet wounds and minor burns would be enough to fool them. A shadow passed over his closed eyelids. Someone was looking in the car.</p>
      <p>"That's all of them, boss!" Yelled the unknown mammal. Bruce barely understood him through the ringing in his ears.</p>
      <p>"Alright everybody, let's get this shit out of here!" Yelled another mammal.</p>
      <p>The shadow disappeared. Smoke overwhelmed the scent of the killers, so Bruce opened his eyes, looked around to make sure they were no longer looking in the truck, and looked back up at the rear-view mirror. The big transport truck had been riddled with shallow holes in the brief but bloody onslaught of bullets, and it was the transport they all ran to now. They were dressed in black and wearing ski masks, but there was no mistaking their humps. The Canal Camels. He could only watch as two of them pulled the gory body of the truck driver from the cabin and take his place while the rest of them returned to the tree line. Two bronze-painted terraforming trucks pulled onto the road and followed the bigger truck as it made a U-turn and took off back towards the colony.</p>
      <p>With their departure, the forest became quiet once more. The dark shape of a four-winged bird flew across the blacked road to another tree. Bruce saw that his phone call had somehow been canceled, and switched it back to the timer.</p>
      <p>Two hours, fifty-five minutes remaining.</p>
      <p>In spite of it all, up to and including the fact he was bleeding out, Bruce chuckled as he wondered if they had any idea what they had just stolen.</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>Even after three days of planning, the Canal Camels couldn't believe their luck. With most of the two-hundred and sixteen mammals that occupied this place either fled or dead, it was a hell of a lot easier to get shit done. The ambush had gone off without a hitch and the loot was theirs. They'd even gotten away without a single guy killed. That is, no guy other than the Company's pricks. Bernardo 'El Demonio' Camelcazar chuckled at the irony as he drove the truck past the 'Welcome to Zootopian Prospect' sign and into the colony. Now that they had reached the cover of rush hour traffic it was time for Phase Two. The truck at the rear of the convoy separated from the others and took a side road, heading towards their headquarters in Sahara Square. There was no way they could sneak an armored transport truck bigger than an elephant on steroids in there, so El Demonio was taking it to a more spacious location. If the marines stopped them for whatever reason, the guys in the front truck would take care of it. There were still some bullets left over from the ambush.</p>
      <p>They turned left at the next junction, taking off in the direction of the Canal Zone. With those fucking assholes in USCM cracking down on the gang all over the galaxy, they weren't able to stay in one place for too long. The Camels had lost too many men to the USCM ever since that crazy incident a couple of months back. To twist the knife further, a few of his lieutenants had taken a pussy 'I told you so' attitude toward the situation; they'd told him that infiltrating the biodome, built to study the diverse flora of ZV-73, and trying to steal rare flower bulbs so they can breed and refine them into drugs was a bad idea, and they were right.</p>
      <p>Speaking of which, El Demonio could feel the crash coming as he reached the narrow bridge connecting Savanna Central to the Canal Zone. He would need to do another snort once they got there, otherwise he wouldn't have a clear head when the time came to unload the goods and disperse them to the rest of the gang.</p>
      <p>Then El Demonio would show those rear-echelon motherfuckers what happens when they screw with his business.</p>
      <p>By the time he stopped the vehicle in front of the massive steel shutter, his body was screaming for a fix. Five passed as he waited for his guys to open the way into the warehouse. Six seconds. Seven. Eight. After nine he couldn't take it anymore. He drizzled a line of precious green power along the dashboard and snorted it right then and there.</p>
      <p>"Fuuuuuuuuck that's the stuff!" He fell back against his seat, feeling better already. As he sat there, feeling the high coming, he felt the hard form of his solid gold Desert Eagle nestled against his side.</p>
      <p>At long last the shutter raised and El Demonio drove the truck inside, almost hitting a pile of crates on the way in. His heart pounded with excitement. He felt wide awake, even though he hadn't slept for fifteen hours. Naptime would wait. He wouldn't sleep a wink until every last one of those colonial fuckers was dead.</p>
      <p>Once the vehicle following the armored truck was inside, the shutter fell shut with a clang that echoed around the warehouse. El Demonio kicked the door open and dropped to the stone floor, feeling almost giddy as he waltzed around the long container and stopped before the rear doors. Piggy Banks like this one were reserved only for the most valuable or dangerous of materials. Yep, the bigwigs were hiding something <em>big</em>.</p>
      <p>He felt the presence of his men gathering around him, and waited until he was sure they were all present before turning his head. "Who got the keys?"</p>
      <p>There was a heavy silence that dampened his drug-induced mood.</p>
      <p>"Well?" He fully turned to glare at them.</p>
      <p>The camels looked at each other nervously.</p>
      <p>"You fucking kidding me?" El Demonio asked slowly and dangerously. "El Demonio told you at least three fucking times before the hit to make sure at least one of you gets the fucking keys!"</p>
      <p>"They didn't have any, boss!" One of them yelled.</p>
      <p>El Scorpio pulled out his Desert Eagle and pondered what he should do. He'd already lost a lot of men to the ZPD. He'd be an idiot if he lost any more to his own bullets.</p>
      <p>'Tell you what." He said. "You get those doors open in one hour and El Demonio'll forgive ya."</p>
      <p>Most of the camels scrambled to fulfill his order, racing to one of the offices to retrieve the cutting torches, while several others stayed in the warehouse to guard the goods. One cautiously stepped up to the boss. "Boss, I found this on one of the guys we hit. Just thought you should know."</p>
      <p>El Demonio stared at the little plastic object that was handed to him. "What the frig is this?"</p>
      <p>"Some sort of timing device sir. Whaddya think it means?"</p>
      <p>On the screen was a countdown; fifty-nine minutes at first glance. El Demonio didn't know, and that pissed him off. "Probably how long he'd got until his next fix, who gives a shit? Get that door open!"</p>
      <p>The cutting torches arrived and El Demonio moved to lean against the hood of the truck while the guys put on welding masks and got to work, setting the back of the semi alight with sparks. Their boss looked on, his faces alight both with anticipation and the glow of the torches, oblivious to the device still in his hoof.</p>
      <p>Fifty minutes left, it counted. After a few seconds it flicked to forty-nine.</p>
      <p>Halfway through the process he called the guys in the Sahara HQ and demanded an update. There had been a minor issue with fueling, but other than that the shuttle should be should be ready to receive their stolen shipment and take it the hell out of dodge. El Demonio was on cloud nine when he hung up. He remembered the device he was still holding and looked at the screen. Twenty-four minutes left. What the hell was it counting down to, anyway? The next episode of <em>WWE</em>?</p>
      <p>Twenty-two minutes left. The cutting torches ran out of fuel, and two guys ran off to get more tanks. By the time they were refueled, there were eighteen minutes left.</p>
      <p>And then, just when El Demonio was thinking he was going to have to shoot someone after all, the cutting torches stopped, and someone shouted that they were done. The gang parted as El Demonio raced back to the scorched semi. He grabbed the handles with both hooves, and looked back at his sweating guys.</p>
      <p>"<em>Amigos</em>, it's time to rock and roll!"</p>
      <p>He threw the doors open.</p>
      <p>The countdown reached zero.</p>
      <p>A blast of frigid air hit him like a spit in the face.</p>
      <p>Everyone fell silent.</p>
      <p>They'd expected Night Howlers, giant blue and purple flowers that resembled snapdragons with gaping maws. They'd expected enough bulbs to earn over ten million in drugs within six months. What they hadn't expected was this.</p>
      <p>Not… <em>nothing</em>.</p>
      <p>It was almost black inside the interior of the massive truck, but they could see enough to see that it was empty.</p>
      <p>Fucking empty!</p>
      <p>"What the fuck is this?" El Demonio stared at the contents, or lack thereof. It couldn't be empty. There was no goddamn way Administrator Clawhauser would send a heavily armed convoy out the city to escort an empty truck.</p>
      <p>No. The darkness was hiding something. He was sure of it.</p>
      <p>"Someone get me a flashlight!" He growled. Almost instantly he felt one being slapped into his hoof. He tossed the timing device aside before climbing up into the truck.</p>
      <p>Immediately he realized why the interior was so black. The walls, ceiling and floor were coated in black metal that felt freezing to the touch. There were screens attached to the walls, high-tech flat screens that looked like they'd been snatched out of a thirtieth century emergency room. There were at least two monitoring someone's heart rate.</p>
      <p>Where were the fucking bulbs?</p>
      <p>El Demonio ventured deeper into the weird truck, ignoring the muttering of his guys as they too wondered what the hell was going on. Halfway through he wandered right into an IV stand that dropped an empty bag as it clattered to the floor.</p>
      <p>As he moved further away from the voices outside, he became aware of a sound coming from inside the truck. A slow, deep breathing sound like what he'd imagine coming from a slumbering dragon. He raised his flashlight and his Desert Eagle.</p>
      <p>The first thing he saw was the thick grey wheel of a gurney. He raised the flashlight slightly higher, and estimated that the gurney was big enough to hold a buffalo or something a little bigger. His heart, already racing from his fix, skipped a beat when he saw a leg. It was a thick-ass leg built entirely from muscle. The creature was restrained, fixed to the table with thick metal cuffs.</p>
      <p>El Demonio 's heart started to pound harder and faster as rage set in. They'd put their necks on the line to smuggle themselves onto this rock, lost a lot of men, and wasted a shit-ton of bullets on the creature from the black lagoon!</p>
      <p>"YOU FUCKING <em>PENDEJOS</em>!" He kicked the gurney and turned on his heel.</p>
      <p>His men looked rightfully terrified when he stormed back to the rear of the Piggy Bank and stood with his feet spread apart in between the charred doors. "Which perma-fried speed freak motherfucker tipped us off about this convoy!"</p>
      <p>Two camels stepped forward, too scared to even consider lifting the machine guns they were still holding. El Demonio knelt down so they could see the look on his face better.<br/>"You call this <em>holicithias</em>?" He snarled at the pair of them.</p>
      <p>One camel, El Demonio was too hyped up to remember his name, spoke up with fear and bewilderment. "I don't understand! The intel came from the Administrator's office! There must be some mistake!"</p>
      <p>El Demonio struck the camel who had spoken with this flashlight. He wanted to kill every last one of these idiots, right then and there.</p>
      <p>"I ASK FOR NIGHT HOWLERS AND YOU GET ME A FUCKING SPECIMEN!"</p>
      <p>El Demonio grabbed the camel by the blood-soaked collar and lifted him into the truck. He then gestured with his flashlight for the other moron to climb in after him. He shot a look of pure venom at the confused and fearful crowd before shoving both squealers further inside.</p>
      <p>"Look! Take a good long look, <em>amigos</em>!" He thundered, thrusting the dented flashlight at the uninjured camel so he could see for himself. The camel shone the flashlight on the massive form on the gurney.</p>
      <p>"What is this?" The camel wondered. The beam of light travelled further up the body, revealing a kind of skin he had never seen on any animal on this planet. His body followed the light, moving further along the gurney.</p>
      <p>"Dozen lug lide adyving I eber daw." The other camel said.</p>
      <p>"Why don't I get my machete and we'll see how it looks on the inside." El Demonio snarled. He turned away, unable to look at his men without feeling a powerful urge to rip their humps off.</p>
      <p>The dumbass with the flashlight moved the beam upwards, towards the faint mist emanating in short spurts from the head of the gurney. Eventually the light fell upon the body's face.</p>
      <p>First there was a crack. El Demonio heard a clattering sound and looked down to see a piece of metal cuff skid across the floor past his feet. Then a gasp, and a sound like celery being wrenched in half. Something splatted across the back of El Demonio neck like a glob of spit. He turned round, but the idiot had dropped the flashlight and he couldn't see the gurney anymore.</p>
      <p>"Gondo?" The broken nosed camel staggered away from the darkness.</p>
      <p>From said darkness emanated a growl almost like a lion's.</p>
      <p>"What the hell is that?" Someone called from outside the semi.</p>
      <p>Before El Demonio could answer, something reached out from the darkness and grabbed the broken-nosed camel by the neck with a clawed hand soaked in blood. A second hand grabbed the top of his head and twisted, cutting him off mid-scream. El Demonio raised his Desert Eagle, nearly too stunned to comprehend just how badly they'd fucked up. As the freakazoid wrenched the head from the body, spinal column and all, it edged further into the light baring the face of a mutant spider from the pits of hell.</p>
      <p>The head came flying at El Demonio, spine trailing behind like the tail of a comet. He managed to fire only once before the bloody projectile hit him full in the face.</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>The force of the severed head striking the camel's nose sent shards of cartilage shooting back into his brain, killing him before he hit the floor. The creature hadn't intended that, but it had intended to kill all the same.</p>
      <p>Most of the wounds suffered in both the crash and the skirmish with the polar bears had healed into fresh scars, and the bullet from the golden gun had only grazed it, dribbling a thin trail of blood on the metal floor of its prison.</p>
      <p>Two more camels entered the truck, machine guns in hoof. The moment of shocked hesitation when they saw the creature was their last mistake. The creature slammed one into the side of the truck hard enough to deform the black metal. Then it ripped out the trachea of the second before he could get a single shot. It threw the body out into the crowd, distracting the remaining enemies in the split second it took for the creature to leap from the semi.</p>
      <p>The next half-minute was pure chaos, a mess of screaming and bleeding and chattering bullets, but only to those falling by the creature's hand. In the blood-soaked killer's mind, there was a pattern in the massacre. Dismember the first. Behead the second. Smash the heads of the third and fourth together into an explosion of blood and grey matter. Remove an arm. Remove the head. Throw the body into three camels. Throw the head into the fourth.</p>
      <p>They all must die.</p>
      <p>It must not fail.</p>
      <p>It had unfinished business on this planet.</p>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Vidar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Two Months Ago…</em>
</p><hr/><p>Judith Laverne Hopps had entered hypersleep five times in her life, but her fifth felt like her first.</p><p>Her vision doubled the second she opened her eyes, and she had to blink a few times before she could make out her own reflection in the curved glass shell that covered the oversized padded pod she lay in; a warm grey bunny with limp ears that could have been dipped in black ink stared faintly back at her. Purple eyes, an uncommon color inherited from her mother's side, perfectly communicated the nausea, exhaustion and general discomfort she was feeling.</p><p>
  <em>Goodness onion gravy, it's cold!</em>
</p><p>With a sound resembling an electric motor, the glass tilted upward, allowing Judy to slowly push herself up. She rubbed her eyes, holding back the urge to vomit, her limp ears pricking as she heard her fellow passengers stir.</p><p>To her right, Captain Jean Rochewool coughed into his hoof as he pushed himself upright, his white cotton-ball tuft bouncing with each expulsion of breath. To her left, Navigator Rafe Cudson knocked the tip of his horn on the edge of the glass as he clambered out of his own pod. A big brown bull with a darker patch over one eye, Rafe looked like he'd had just as bad an awakening as she did. Jean, not so much.</p><p>Judy reached under her shirt, removed the heart rate sensors from her chest, and dropped down from her cryotube. In a case of instant regret, the sudden drop raised her nausea level beyond the point of no return; she let go, all over the floor, less than a meter from Rafe's feet.</p><p>"What the fuck, Hopps?!" He lifted his legs just in time to avoid the splatter, letting himself fall back into his cryotube and climbing back out the other side.</p><p>Judy wiped her mouth, unable to focus on Rafe; her vision was going weird again. "S-sorry."</p><p>During the commotion, Jean had made his way over to the computer screen built into the wall beside the door. Big words were flashing above the list of passengers over and over. "That can't be good." He said. Despite what his name implied his accent was weak at best, and Judy had heard perhaps only one French word in the four days she'd known him. He typed a few keys, and grunted at the result. "It says here that our life support system was momentarily disrupted."</p><p>"What?" Rafe initially moved to join Jean at the screen, but then he suddenly retched and lost balance, gripping the edge of his cryotube for support.</p><p>"Sick bowl's over there." Jean pointed to a spot beside the mega-cryotube reserved for the biggest of mammals. The helpful tip came too late for Rafe, and Judy had to look away as the bull bent double, letting loose the contents of his stomach all over the floor.</p><p>With her paw sliding along the frigid wall of the cryotube she had used, Judy staggered over to Jean. Her legs felt like jelly, but her nausea wasn't as bad as it was before. Her brain was starting to kick back into gear.</p><p>"Are we on auxiliary power?" She asked feebly.</p><p>"Doesn't look like it." Jean said tersely, keeping his attention on the screen.</p><p>"How're you feeling?"</p><p>"Feel like death. More or less." Jean had pulled up a 2D yellow diagram of the seven cryotubes that formed a star in the middle of the room. "Looks like freezers one to four were affected. That includes yours and Rafe's."</p><p>"What happened?" Judy grimaced when she heard Rafe retch again.</p><p>"This computer can't access that information. Maybe Flash can tell us more once I find him. If he can't, I'll ask Mother what's going on."</p><p>Judy turned around, moving slowly to avoid aggravating her symptoms. Only now did she notice that Medical Officer slash Engineer Flash's cryotube was empty. "I'll go look for him." She said.</p><p>"<em>I'll</em> go look for him." Jean stepped out into the white octagonal hallway and grabbed a flimsy dressing gown from the waiting line of hooks. "In the meantime, you and Rafe need to get yourselves to the infirmary so Flash can check you over."</p><p>Judy put her paws on her hips. "Rafe's a bit busy right now."</p><p>Jean hardened his gaze and pointed over Judy's head. "The sick bowl is still in that corner, Hopps. I'll see you both in the infirmary."</p><p>He pressed a button, shutting the door in Judy's scowling face. The rabbit rapidly thumped her foot before turning to Rafe. He was sitting on the edge of his cryotube, his face scrunched and ashen, but his stomach appeared to have settled down.</p><p>"Jerk." Judy muttered.</p><p>"Don't take it personal. Passengers give him trust issues." Rafe swallowed and got up unsteadily, testing the waters of his tortured guts. "Right... I think I'm okay, for now."</p><p>Once they got to the infirmary and helped themselves to a glass of water apiece, they felt a little better. Fortunately, they didn't have to wait long for Jean to return with a sloth in tow. Judy had nothing against Flash personally, but at the same time she wondered who in their right mind thought a sloth was a practical model. That wasn't to say he was incompetent. In situations that required a fast response, he was as fast as any other mammal, but when he wasn't, communicating with him effectively was a chore.</p><p>"Physically… you're both… fine." Flash's speech was winding down, just like his body was as he put away the stethoscope he had just used on Judy while she sat on the examination table. "Aside… from the… severe… nausea… and diso… rien… tation… there is… no… permanent… damage."</p><p>"Flash, all due respect, could you speed it up?" Rafe said just before swallowing some anti-sickness pills at the bench.</p><p>"I'm sorry… but my… battery… is… still… defective…" Flash said.</p><p>Judy's ears perked. "When do you think-"</p><p>"… at this… time."</p><p>Judy pursed her lips, her eyes flicking from Rafe to Jean. Jean was leaning beside the door, looking amused while sipping his coffee.</p><p>
  <em>Just when I think I've gotten the hang of dealing with him…</em>
</p><p>"Small wonder they only made one hundred and twenty of you." Rafe grumbled.</p><p>Flash sluggishly closed the drawer containing the stethoscope and turned back to the others. "I can… explain… the… situ… ation…"</p><p>Judy pushed herself further up on the table. "First off-"</p><p>"… better…"</p><p>Judy sighed and buttoned her lips once more.</p><p>"… by… typing… if you… wish."</p><p>"Wish? I'm praying to Father Time over here." Rafe said.</p><p>Jean gave an amused snort and joined the small group. "Don't worry, Flash explained the situation to me. You don't mind if I take it from here, <em>non</em>?"</p><p>"… <em>Non.</em>" Flash said.</p><p>Jean propped himself on the end of the table, rested his cup on his thigh, and got to the point.</p><p>"Okay, a little over an hour ago, we collided with an unidentified object."</p><p>Judy felt her breath hitch in her throat.</p><p>"Say what?" Rafe asked sharply.</p><p>Jean briefly unclasped his hooves and shrugged. "Something struck the left side of the <em>Vidar</em> as we were approaching our destination. Only grazed us, unbelievably, but it punctured our air support system and Mother had to wake up Flash to fix it."</p><p>Judy felt her chest tighten and she drained the last of her water. 'Only grazed us', he'd said. Sweet cheese and crackers, 'only grazed us' was a cotton-picking miracle. If the <em>Vidar</em> had only been a few meters to the left…</p><p>"The crime lab wasn't hit, was it?" She blurted out the second that horrible thought struck her.</p><p>Jean shook his head.</p><p>"But if the support system was damaged, that means our air supply was depleted, right? How long do we have?"</p><p>"Seven hours."</p><p>Rafe cursed. "What's the bad news?"</p><p>Jean gave a small smile. "There is no bad news. As soon as it happened, Mother sent a distress signal to ZV-73. The marines have already sent the <em>Avellanos</em> to pick us up. They'll be here in about three hours, so relax. We're fine."</p><p>Judy rubbed her chest, wishing the tight feeling would go away. Jean gave her a look that may have been empathetic and stood up. "Look, I know you're both pretty shaken up, and this could have been a hell of a lot worse. But we <em>are</em> going to be okay. When the <em>Avellanos</em> gets here, I'll need to explain exactly what has happened, and give them the go ahead to board."</p><p>"How are they gonna do that?" Rafe asked.</p><p>"They'll attach an umbilical to the airlock so they can bring us onboard. Shouldn't take ten minutes."</p><p>Judy nodded. She'd travelled through an umbilical before, when she'd been called in to analyze the scene of a murder on a ship much like this one. So far as she knew, the court case was still ongoing.</p><p>"They can't take the <em>Vidar</em> or its cargo, so Flash will have to stay behind and finish the repairs so it'll be fit to complete the rest of the journey on its own." Jean looked expectantly at his engineer.</p><p>"… Will… take…. at least… thirty… six… hours." Flash said.</p><p>"Good. And Rafe, Mother recorded the whole thing, so the company will know that it wasn't our fault. Don't worry about this coming out of your paycheck."</p><p>"Fabulous." Rafe grumbled.</p><hr/><p>Once everyone had showered and changed into their uniforms, the side effects of a disrupted hypersleep had subsided enough for them to fill their stomachs. Jean didn't join them right away, instead disappearing into the MU-TH-UR chamber. "Captain's eyes, only." He'd said, as if expecting Judy to want to go with him. This habit of assuming that Judy was always looking to stick her nose where it wasn't wanted was grating, but she would ignore it. Surely he had his reasons.</p><p>Breakfast in the mess hall started out as a quiet, dismal affair, but before long the shock of their near-death experience subsided and the air came alive with the clattering of cutlery and plastic dishes. Jean returned with a lit cigarette in hoof, took his place at the table and the jokes started.</p><p>"Look, for the record, I am not going out to redo the paint job." Rafe gave the clear box of cereal one last shake before setting it down and reaching for the milk. "Every time something like this happens, I'm the one who does it. If we're getting paid equally, we should at least make the workloads match."</p><p>"You always do the painting because you do a good job of it." Jean took another bite of his cereal grass bar. "And if I get Flash to do it, I risk him getting damaged."</p><p>Rafe stirred his mountain of milk and cereal and scoffed. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that. You know the paint would dry before he even got it on the hull."</p><p>Judy smiled to herself while the others laughed. The funniest part of the joke was probably the fact that the three of them were talking out of their butts, and they knew it. The <em>Vidar</em> wasn't actually painted, but covered in a thermal coating designed to help regulate the temperatures of entering a planet's atmosphere. It wasn't even applied by the crew.</p><p>"Ha… ha… ha…" Flash lightly rapped his claws on the tabletop. "… screw you…"</p><p>More laughter. Judy maintained her focus on the open file in front of her. Rafe was as coarse as the hair on his back and he didn't go out of his way to socialize with her, though he did make an effort to make her feel comfortable. Jean just flat-out didn't trust her for some reason. Only Flash treated her like an equal, even if he was a little irritating whenever his battery slowed him down. As much as Judy felt like an outsider, there wasn't much point in trying to change that. She was just cargo to them, nothing more.</p><p>"So, what did Mother say, Jean?" Rafe asked. "It was a rock that hit us, wasn't it?"</p><p>"Could have been a rock, or it could have been another ship. Whatever it was, it was as big as the <em>Vidar</em>."</p><p>"Jesus."</p><p>"Probably the cause of our good luck." Jean stuck his cigarette into the ash tray and stood up. "Alright, wrap it up. I want both of us on the bridge when the <em>Avellanos</em> gets here. Flash, I want you to resume repairs as soon as possible."<br/>"Got… it… What… about… Hopps?"</p><p>Jean glanced at her briefly. "Leave her be. It looks like she's got a lot of homework to do."</p><p>With that the ram walked out, followed by Rafe.</p><p>With more space on the table to work with, Judy inched her empty cup away from the file and opened another one next to it.</p><p>ZV-73, also known as Rhamnusia, was a biologically diverse planet in the 32-Draconi star system, home to a colony called Zootopian Prospect. Much like Mother Earth, the planet was host to deserts, jungles, mountain ranges, and wildlife. Zootopian Prospect was located precisely on the border between a desert and a jungle to enable direct access to both habitats. There was an image of it right there on the first page; a multi-zoned complex encased in a biosecurity dome, meticulously designed to keep earth diseases in, and indigenous diseases out. Judy took another look at a section of the first file. So far, there had been no instances of damage directly related to the dome.</p><p>For three months, not counting the time Judy had spent in hypersleep, there had been eleven cases of damage, breakdowns, power overloads, all situated in the R&amp;D specified zones. At first, they had been chalked up to typical electrical problems, but after an attempted break-in at the Rainforest Zone, the marines had gotten suspicious. The Base Commander for the USCM base situated within the colony had requested a Crime Technician be sent to confirm or disprove the presence of a saboteur. So here Judy was, along with a portable crime lab currently being towed behind the <em>Vidar</em>, hoping this incident wouldn't make her look bad in the eyes of the mammals who asked for her help.</p><p>Judy sipped the very last dreg of coffee from her cup, gathered her files and got up. It was a bittersweet feeling to be working with the colonial marines, the self-proclaimed ultimate badasses of the galaxy, considering that once a upon a time she wanted to be one of them.</p><p>The electronically distorted voice of the captain burst out from the intercom behind her. <em>"Hopps, come to the bridge right away."</em></p><p>Holding the files in one arm, Judy strode down the narrow white hallway and into the stainless steel-themed bridge. Jean and Rafe were at their posts, their headsets on.</p><p>"This is commercial transport vehicle <em>Vidar</em> out of St. Rosemarie, registration MSV-eight-one-thirteen, calling the USS <em>Avellanos</em>. We've sustained major damage to the left side of our vessel and are running low on air. We request immediate permission to transfer over to your vessel. Over." Rafe flipped a switch, and a Texan voice responded.</p><p>
  <em>"This is Captain Samuel Mane, United States Colonial Marines, USS Avellanos. We're aware of your situation and are 'waiting the go-ahead to attach the umbilical. Over."</em>
</p><p>"This is Captain Jean Rochewool, USCSS <em>Vidar</em>. Go right ahead, Captain. I want my crew off this ship before the air gets stale. Over."</p><p>
  <em>"Roger that. Get the Vidar in position, an' we'll take it from 'ere. Over and out."</em>
</p><p>Judy heard the door slide open behind her, and turned to see Flash entering at a pace that was rather off-putting for his species. He stopped and gave Judy a brief smile of greeting.</p><p>"You may want to strap in for this." He stretched out one long arm, offering her a seat on the right side of the bridge, the one right in front of the entrance to Mother's core. When Judy sat down, she had to crane her neck to see the set of small screens before her. Fortunately, she had travelled on ships like this before, so she didn't have to ask which switch to press to raise the chair so she could see over the top of the control panel. No need to make herself look even more helpless in the eyes of her larger peers.</p><p>Flash took his seat in the central row behind the front row where Jean and Rafe were sitting.</p><p>"Flash?" Judy asked.</p><p>"Yes, Miss Hopps?"</p><p>"If you want, when I'm planet-side, I can find you a replacement battery."</p><p>"Thank you, but that won't be necessary, Miss Hopps."</p><p>"Are you sure? What if it goes bust while you're doing repairs?"</p><p>"My auxiliary battery will keep me functional for seventy-two hours, Miss Hopps. I'm quite sure."</p><p>Judy switched on the central screen, producing a pixelated map of the space surrounding the ship. A dot was rapidly approaching the <em>Vidar's</em> marker. She knew Flash was artificial, but it didn't feel right to leave him here. If her parents ever found out that she would be spending a couple of days alone in a damaged ship low on air, they would have a mutual stroke.</p><p>
  <em>Get over it, Judy. He's a robot. If he shuts down, we can just fix him and turn him back on. It's not like we're leaving him for dead. So why am I feeling so nervous?</em>
</p><p>According to the screen, the <em>Avellanos</em> would pass by the window in a moment, and with a rush of anticipation she looked up from the screen to the wide window before her. Beyond the eleven-inch thick glass was an empty sea of stars that glowed orange in the light of the distant twin suns.</p><p>Then she saw it. A behemoth of a vessel shouldered its way through the hyperspace in front of the <em>Vidar</em>, a colossus of battered metal and hulking engines spearheaded by a forest of antennae that protruded straight ahead like bayonets. Railguns and missile launchers lay dormant and darkened by shadow along its furrowed, uneven hull. It was a manifestation of brutal strength and ingenious efficiency, and Judy couldn't look away as it passed by the window, eclipsing the light of the suns.</p><p>"Heh. Looks like a giant pulse rifle." Rafe said out of nowhere. Jean chuckled and took a long drag of his second cigarette.</p><p>Judy took an overdue breath. She had only ever seen a <em>Conesantler</em>-class ship in photographs, or as a model in her hometown's local museum, but in less than an hour she would be setting foot in the real thing. And this was the <em>Avellanos</em>, the ship that blew the J'Har organization into oblivion. Just seeing the inside of that vessel would be a privilege, one that her family, her friends and this crew could never understand.</p><p>The attachment of the umbilical went off without a hitch, and the only indication that the process had been completed was when Jean abruptly ordered everyone to head to the inner hatch of the airlock. At the airlock, Jean maintained communication with the other ship using his headset.</p><p>"Captain, we're at the inner hatch. Your guys ready on your end?" When Captain Mane gave the affirmation, Jean pressed the button on the control panel beside the hatch. "Inner hatch open." He signaled for the other three to stay put while he approached the outer hatch. Judy felt an irrational pang of fear as he reached for the big button that opened the final barrier between them and the vacuum of space. She swallowed down that fear, squared her shoulders and stretched her ears to look as big as possible. They needed her help to catch a saboteur. Their commander had asked for her help personally. If she couldn't join them, she would make herself worthy of their respect.</p><p>"Outer hatch open." Jean said in the brief moment before the thick doors slid open.</p><p>In the sterile red and white interior of the umbilical stood three marines in full uniform. The lion at the head of the small group carried an M41A pulse rifle, as did the bear to his right. To his left, carrying what looked to be an M240 flamethrower, was a slender red fox.</p><p>Judy blinked. <em>A fox?</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Drop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In an immaculate office in the heart of Fort Meadowland, Base Commander Mansa Bogo was feeling the weight of the crown on his boss.</p><p>This was the last thing the cape buffalo had expected when Administrator Hornbull called for this meeting on short notice. Zootopian Prospect did not have its own security taskforce, so the task of finding and catching whoever was screwing with the R&amp;D Department had fallen on his shoulders. As a result of this, Bogo had expected extra pressure to catch the saboteur, now that they had upped the ante from sabotage to murder, but not this. He'd certainly not expected some scientist from the Company to be sitting in the seat opposite his desk, beside the rhino who ran the rest of the colony.</p><p>Dr. Sharla Ewetani was as tall as her chair and coated in wool the color of dark chocolate, a black sheep in the sense that in a family of high-ranking execs, she was the first to become a scientist. Her straight-backed, eager posture suggested someone who had a lot to gain from her presence here, and Bogo didn't yet know why.</p><p>"An expedition?"</p><p>"That is correct, Colonel." Hornbull looked very happy as he began to explain. "Dr. Ewetani is leading an expedition about seventy miles from here and she wanted to make sure you were informed. You see, the Company has-"</p><p>"Excuse me, I can speak for myself." Ewetani looked up at the rhino as she lightly chastised him. Looking at the unassuming ewe, Bogo wondered how often she had been talked over in the past. He knew a mammal who had been just like that, right here in Zootopian Prospect, but it hadn't taken him long to find his voice.</p><p>"Is that right?" Bogo couldn't remember the last time a meeting with the Administrator had genuinely intrigued him. "What sort of expedition?"</p><p>"I'll be more than happy to explain it to you, Commander Bogo, so long as you give your word that the information will be kept within this office."</p><p>"You have my word, Dr. Ewetani." Bogo assured her.</p><p>Ewetani smiled as she placed a laptop computer on the desk and switched it on, displaying an ancient map of a desert-like landscape on a large white screen.</p><p>
  <em>Powerpoint. Last thing I need.</em>
</p><p>"What is that?" Bogo asked, bracing himself for imminent boredom.</p><p>"This is what we believe this land to have looked like way before Zootopian Prospect or even large size animals came into existence." Ewetani tapped the screen with a pen designed to resemble a corncob. "They believe that a very, very long time ago, thousands of years in fact, this area didn't have a lake, or even a forest for that matter. Back then, glaciers carved deep pits as they moved, and then when they melted, they filled the pits and became lakes, much like how it went down on Earth."</p><p>"And you're conducting this expedition to prove your theories, is that correct?" Bogo asked.</p><p>"Partly." Ewetani said. She dragged her chair over to the screen and stood on it so she could point higher. "I can't go into details for confidential reasons, but we have recently uncovered evidence that there may be archeological remnants to be found in Lake Kitticaca, which is the area we will be exploring. Remnants that have, until now, been undiscovered."</p><p>Bogo raised an eyebrow. The surveyors had scanned every inch of the planet's surface and found no evidence of an advanced civilization. What could Weyland Ewetani have discovered to challenge that? "How do you plan to get to the bottom of the lake? I know the lake you're talking out. It's almost two miles straight down to the deepest point. Practically freshwater ocean."</p><p>"We have small submersibles for that. Completely non-polluting, I assure you."</p><p>"Good." The Administrator said.</p><p>Bogo stroked his broad chin. "What exactly are you hoping to find down there?"</p><p>"That's strictly need-to-know." Ewetani said apologetically. "At least until we're ready to make our findings public. For now, you just need to know what we're doing and that what we're doing is completely lawful."</p><p>"She's right. They have permits, contracts, everything they need to make what they're doing legal." Hornbull said. "But there is the small matter of our mystery saboteur."</p><p>"You think they'll try to screw with your expedition?" Bogo asked.<br/>Ewetani nodded. "Administrator Hornbull told me about that engineer. I've been assured that you're doing everything you can to find the culprit."</p><p>"I've requested a portable crime lab to analyze the crime scene, which has been sealed off since we found the body. It'll be here within a day."</p><p>He wouldn't mention the distress signal until he knew the status of the crew and its cargo.</p><p>"Perfect!" Ewetani said cheerfully. A little too cheerfully, perhaps. Bogo was glad that he wouldn't be seeing much of her. He didn't like being left in the dark like this, but he didn't like having company reps interfering with his business either.</p><p>"When do you expect to start?" He asked.</p><p>"Tomorrow."</p><p>"Tomorrow?" Bogo repeated, feeling a short rush of anger. "And I'm only learning about this now?"</p><p>Hornbull held a hand up. "That's my fault, Commander. With all the paperwork I've had to work with lately that I've only just now been able to make the time to discuss this with you. I hope this isn't too short notice."</p><p>"Not at all." Bogo managed to keep his response from dripping of sarcasm.</p><p>"That's good." Ewetani maintained her cheerful tone. "We'll speak again once the operation gets underway."</p><p>With a pleasant goodbye, she and Hornbull left the office.</p><p>Bogo stared at the door after it was closed behind them. He could imagine why Hornbull was so happy about this. Being the administrative head of the first colonized planet to present undeniable evidence of advanced alien life could do wonders for his career. Dr. Ewetani, on the other hoof, he couldn't put a finger on. She was young, energetic and had that 'don't ask' mentality that suggested that she was doing something she knew she probably shouldn't. She hadn't even stated what field she worked in. But she was from the Company, she was part of the family that founded half the Company, and that meant doing what the hell she told him to do. For now, at least, he would keep his nose out.</p><p>He was diverted from his suspicious thoughts by the beep of his intercom. The cape buffalo grumbled, rubbed the back of his thick neck, and hoped that he was about to receive good news. "Major Higgins."</p><p>
  <em>"Sir, we've just received word back from the Avellanos. They've reached the Vidar. The crew is unharmed and onboard."</em>
</p><p>Bogo exhaled in relief. He'd been woken up in the middle of Rhamnusia's long night when the <em>Vidar</em> had sent out that distress signal and worry over the fate of the crew had kept him up ever since. "What of the cargo?"</p><p>
  <em>"Also undamaged. The android will complete the rest of the journey once repairs of complete."</em>
</p><p>"Good. Report to me and the Administrator immediately when the crew in planet-side. That will be all, for now."</p><p>
  <em>"Sir, the Vidar's Mother system also sent some data about the UFO that damaged the ship."</em>
</p><p>Bogo paused, almost taking his finger off the button. "And?"</p><p>
  <em>"The trajectory of the object suggests that it had entered our atmosphere somewhere beyond our sensors' range."</em>
</p><p>That was about twenty clicks beyond the borders of the colony. No-one had reported any fireballs in the sky. The sensors had reported no impact tremors. Whatever the object was, it could be anywhere on the planet. Bogo took a few seconds to decide what to do about this. "I'll talk to the Administrator, but for now, I want this kept under wraps. It could just be a meteorite, but I don't want any colonists going out and making a soup's sandwich out of this whole thing."</p><p>
  <em>"Will do, sir."</em>
</p><p>"Anything else, Major?"</p><p>Higgins informed him that there was nothing else, and with that, Bogo was left alone with nothing but his thoughts and an administrative clusterfuck to work through. The shipment of weapon parts had been delayed yet again. Someone was causing trouble for R&amp;D. A towing vehicle was stuck in orbit with a damaged life support system. An engineer had been murdered, and there were few alibis to work with. And now the Company was here and up to their usual cloak-and-dagger mischief. Sometimes it just wasn't worth getting out of the barracks.</p><p>That is, if Bogo was still living in the barracks.</p><p>Bogo looked at his computer, and the document he'd been working on when Hornbull had interrupted with his short-notice meeting. It was yet another email politely demanding to know when the weapon part shipment was coming. It was only half done, since Bogo was having a hard time trying to keep the language from appearing too aggressive.</p><p>Maybe aggression was the problem. A strong word, perhaps, but that was probably it. He'd stop by the shooting range before heading home.</p><p>Bogo intertwined his fingers behind his head and looked again at the email. Did he even need to write another email?</p><p>"Screw it." He muttered. He was going to the shooting range right now. He switched off the computer, let his direct subordinate know what he was doing, and left the office. The pulse rifle was his best bet, or maybe something with more kick, like the smart gun. It had been a while since he'd unloaded one of those on a target…</p><hr/><p>The lion, Gunnery Sergeant Ryan King, turned his pulse rifle to the ceiling and relaxed.</p><p>"Lower your weapons. Their profiles match."</p><p>Having read the files himself, Private Nicholas Wilde had already known that. He'd recognized sourchop Rochewool and brawny Cudson as soon as the hatch had opened and noticed that they both looked like they'd had a very bad hypersleep. Flash Flash-Hundred-Yard-Dash was unaccounted for, currently in another part of the ship conducting repairs. That was a shame; Nick had hoped to see his old artificial buddy in person before they were both planetside, but it wasn't safe to stay on a ship with a dwindling air supply. As for CSI Hopps (or CST, Nick didn't really see the difference), he'd known her name and face even before reading her file.</p><p>"Sorry 'bout that. You wouldn't have been the first pirates to pose as the crew." King explained to the captain of the stricken <em>Vidar.</em></p><p>Jean shrugged like it was no big deal. <em>Wow, talk about jaded.</em> "Thanks for getting here so quick. We would have used the shuttle, but…"</p><p>"The Company wouldn't like you abandoning their multi-million-dollar portable crime lab, I know." Nick said. "Don't worry, we'll make sure nothing happens to the oval office."</p><p>The CSI, Judy Hopps, frowned. "'Oval office?'"</p><p>Nick smirked. "I saw it during our approach. Don't tell me it doesn't look like a giant aspirin."</p><p>Hopps's frown deepened and turned down to the flamethrower in his paws. <em>She doesn't really think I'm planning to turn her into a rabbit roast and serve her with thyme, does she? Nah, there's no fear in her eyes.</em></p><p>King told Nick to knock it off and escort the crew and their minimal luggage onto the <em>Avellanos</em> for a medical checkup.</p><p>In the ship's medbay, Hospital Corpsman Marvin Krumpanski examined the crew one by one, and it didn't take long for the stocky rhino to give all three mammals a clean bill of health. Once he was cleared, Rochewool had asked to see the captain about being returned to the <em>Vidar</em> to help Flash land the ship. Captain, AKA Colonel Samuel Mane, was a maned wolf with fur colored brass like a rifle shell, and a major chip on his shoulder when it came to megafauna that questioned him purely on his size. After cordially accepting Rochewool's request to see him in the medbay, he explained that once the crew was planetside, their safety would be the responsibility of the Administrator in charge of the colony, and Colonel Bogo, the cape buffalo in charge of Fort Meadowland. It would be up to one of them to authorize that action. Neither Rochewool nor Hopps had liked that, but there was nothing they could do until they spoke with the two leaders. Cudson didn't complain at all, just glad to be off the <em>Vidar</em>before he suffocated.</p><p>With the matter of the <em>Vidar's</em> cargo settled, the discussion turned to the crew itself. "The best course of action is for the <em>Avellanos</em> to stay here to protect the cargo. A dropship has been prepped for the three of you to be transported to ZV-73, where you and Cudson will be given temporary quarters until the synthetic finishes repairs."</p><p>"What about Hopps?" Cudson asked, pointing out the bunny's omission.</p><p>"She will be escorted to Fort Meadowland to meet with the Base Commander. She is his top priority."</p><p>It perked Hopps's ears when she heard that, like she wasn't used to being treated as a VIM.</p><p>Mane turned his head sharply to Nick. "Wilde, escort them to the hangar bay. The dropship should be ready by now."</p><p>Nick saluted. Mane was one of the few mammals to which he never did it sarcastically. "Already on our way, sir."</p><p>During the short walk to the hangar bay, Nick mentally took stock of his civilian charges, as he'd done long before being drafted into the corps. Rafe Cudson seemed like an okay guy, if prone to griping. He didn't like danger, plain and simple. He couldn't blame Jean Rochewool for worrying so much about how this cockup would affect him. If some company pencil pusher had stolen Nick's keycard and broke into the MU-TH-UR chamber, triggering a legal shitstorm and almost costing him his flight license, he would be paranoid from then on, too.</p><p>As for Judith (Judy) Hopps, more reading may be in order. The first time she'd laid eyes on him, she'd been surprised, almost shocked even. Who wouldn't be, seeing a shifty fox dressed like a marine and carrying a deadly weapon? But once the shock had passed, her demeanor toward him had turned curious. Even now he could feel her eyes on him as they walked through the last corridor to the bay. When she wasn't looking at him, she was looking at everything within the <em>Avellanos</em> with unmistakable awe. The ship wasn't anything special to look at, designed to be pratical rather than pretty. It was uglier than most vessels out there, but Hopps took it all in like she was wandering around the Aphrodite Art Museum.</p><p>"So… Private First-Class Wilde, was it?" She asked, surprising Nick by speaking to him directly.</p><p>"Just Private." Nick glanced at her with a smile to be polite. The glimpse of her face showed large purple eyes wide with genuine interest.</p><p>"A flamethrower's an odd choice for boarding a small towing vessel, isn't it?"</p><p>"Scare factor, in case you really were pirates in disguise." Nick said immediately. "Most animals retreat from fire, don't they?"</p><p>"What other weapons can you use? The M41E? The recoil from M41A would be too strong for you, wouldn't it?"</p><p>Nick wondered what she was going with this. "Yeah, I can use an M41E if the ammo isn't too powerful. I can also use an M4 pistol. Why do you ask?"</p><p>"Just… curious."</p><p>"Right, and I'm just plain ugly."</p><p>Nick reached the door and pressed the button to open it. The door slid open and exposed the small group to the loud, boisterous chatter of the 3nd Battalion Beta Team members who would be joining them on their return to Fort Meadowland. Ryan King, Corporal Ethan Wolford, Private First-Class Karl Trunkaby and Private First-Class Matilda Fangmeyer sat on crates near the docked UD-4 Utility Dropship.</p><p>"About fricking time, Wilde!" The tigress pulled herself off the crate with a dangling chain as she jeered. "What, d'ya need Johnson to fetch a schematic?"</p><p>"D'ya need me to fetch a wordlist, Fangmeyer?" Nick grinned back at her. "'Cause I'd benefit more from a map."</p><p>"We'll be ready to go once Johnson finishes loading up." Wolford, the <em>Avellanos's</em>dropship pilot, jerked his thumb at the yellow powerloader, piloted by Johnson the lion, slowly stomping its way along the room with a crate in its forked clutches.</p><p>"We're not going on <em>that</em>, are we?" Cudson pointed incredulously at the other dropship.</p><p>Nick shook his head and gestured to the UD-7 Dropship that would be their ride back to the planet. "Nah, the Express Elevator to Hell is for combat drops only. We'll be taking the cab instead. Still a bit of a drop at the start, but overall a much smoother ride."</p><p>"Darnit."</p><p>He just managed to hear the disappointed curse under Hopps's breath and sharply snorted in laughter. Okay, now he was starting to like her.</p><p>When Johnson was done, the group strode single file up the ramp into the UD-7, a ship that vaguely resembled a steel brick, while Wolford and Johnson went to take their place in the cockpit. He could feel the dread emanating from Rochewool and Cudson as they took their places in the row of uncomfortable metal seats that lined the claustrophobic interior of the ship. Yep, the corps were all substance over style. No comfy plastic white A decks on this boat.</p><p>Nick empathized with the pair when the safety harness lowered over their bodies, pinning them to their seats. Though the sudden drop no longer bothered him, the experience was no different from how he imagined being trapped in a free-falling elevator felt like. The only difference between a dropship and an elevator was that you knew what was coming.</p><p>Hopps took the seat directly across from Nick, the bottom bar of the harness the only thing holding her tiny body in place. The fox thought about telling her about what had happened on Rhamnusia during her journey, but he didn't imagine that Bogo or Mane would like that. Besides, there were better ways of making conversation with her.</p><p>Wolford's voice cut through the cabin as the door rose and shut. <em>"Prelaunch auto-cycle engaged."</em> Cudson winced, drawing the silent amusement of his marine cohorts as they all felt the dropship being carried across the bay. When it stopped, Nick knew they were directly above the hangar doors. Hopps looked both excited and terrified. <em>"Primary couples released. Hit the internals."</em></p><p>There was a slight jolt before the dropship was lowered through the inner door into the wide shaft. Cudson was already clinging to his harness for dear life.</p><p>Wolford checked with King that everyone was secured. By now the exterior doors would be open. In a matter of seconds, the UD-7 would plummet out the belly of the <em>Avellanos</em>.</p><p>
  <em>"Stand by to initiate release sequencer. Stand by, ten seconds…"</em>
</p><p>"Fuck, I hate this." Cudson had screwed his eyes shut.</p><p>Rochewool just tightened his hooves around the bars of his harness and waited.</p><p>
  <em>"On my mark. Five… four…"</em>
</p><p>"Scared, Carrots?" Nick asked.</p><p>"Heck no." Judy lied through her buck teeth.</p><p>
  <em>"… two… one… Mark."</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Donut Pusher</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Savanna Central, the heart of Zootopian Prospect, was a small facility devoted entirely to the administrative side of the colony's activities. Four floors tall, structured like a pyramid and propped on a series of twenty-inch thick pillars, it towered over the other sectors like a castle. On the outside, it looked like a symmetrical glacier, devoid of color and speckled with oblong windows tinted to keep out the worst of the sunlight. On the inside, the otherwise monotonous hallways and offices were like a local art gallery. Each room displayed at least three photo prints, if not more, most of which displayed the beauty of Rhamnusia's flora and fauna in a variety of vivid colors. Upon taking up his permanent post as the colony's administrator, Horace Hornbull took one look at the bland, repetitious workspace and put out a massive order for all the photographs that had been produced by the colony's science and exploration divisions. Within a week the workplace had enough color and beauty to stimulate the minds of his employees, and within a month productivity had almost doubled.</p><p>Hornbull's office had five prints, two prints for the wall where the door was situated, the other three prints for the rest. Each one displayed a different species of insect; most of them were as small as buttons, but the print behind Hornbull's desk displayed a Dolich Wasp, an amber bug as big as cheetah's paw. If you didn't see its small black head up close, it was a pretty if intimidating creature with a sting that burned like fire but no more lethal than a humble bumble bee.</p><p>With his boss out all day cozying up to the newcomers from the Company, Assistant Administrator Benjamin Clawhauser had the entire top floor to himself. It was the smallest section of the building, containing only five rooms, but it was also the most artistic. On this floor Hornbull had included paintings and wood-carved furniture along with the prints, which he claimed had come straight from his old house back on Earth, passed down through generations all the way from the nineteenth century. It didn't quite match the metallic paneled white walls and grated floors.</p><p>A slim feline with spotted golden fur, Clawhauser opened the door to Hornbull's office without knocking, danced across the square shaped room and left a report on the desk in paper form; with the rash of sabotage acts plaguing the colony, his boss was worried about losing computer files. He glanced at the painted wasp behind the faux leather desk chair, as he always did when entering this office.</p><p>"… I'll keep on making these new mistakes…" He sang the lyrics to Try Everything with a grin on his face, almost in tune with the song that graced his ears through the music player in his shirt pocket. Normally he'd be forced to work in silence, but today he was taking full advantage of Hornbull's absence. The report was done, he had three hours left to kill, and he was going to spend those three hours finishing off the Gazelle biography that awaited him in his own office next door. He hated cliffhangers, and the last chapter he'd read had a real doozy.</p><p>Clawhauser was almost out the door when he heard a beeping sound. With a sigh he turned off his music, returned to the desk and pressed a button. "This is the Administrator's office."</p><p>It was Scottish Chief Engineer Renee Park speaking. <em>"Hey, Clawhauser. Where's the boss?"</em></p><p>"He's out for the day. Do you want me to pass a message?"</p><p>
  <em>"Shit, he picked a hell of a time for it. We've lost two more engineers outside the border of Zootopian Prospect."</em>
</p><p>Clawhauser's heart sank. "Aw jeez. Who?"</p><p>
  <em>"Tom Tuskor and Izumi Nishimura, Senior Engineers for the Orb Monitoring System. They went out to fix a minor problem with Sensor 12, but we lost contact."</em>
</p><p>"You reported this to the marines, right?"</p><p>
  <em>"Bogo's sent out a team to look for them, and I sent some guys, too. Sensor 12 is the farthest from the colony, and you know how communications can get funky the farther you get. Hopefully they just wandered out of range."</em>
</p><p>Clawhauser thought of the cliffhanger in his book, and then made a choice. "Okay. I'll inform Hornbull and be there straight away."</p><p>
  <em>"Clawhauser, that really isn't necessary."</em>
</p><p>"Really, I insist on being there. Hornbull will probably tell me to go anyway. Sensor 12, right?"</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah. Take Number 17 from the main road, you can't miss it."</em>
</p><p>Hornbull preferred to carry his own headset when not in his office, so it was quick and easy for Clawhauser to send the message through the comms system in his own office. Hornbull was unhappy about the situation, but hopeful that they'd just wandered out of range of communication. Clawhauser's request to go to the site was granted, so long as he started writing his report as soon as he got back. He made sure both his and Hornbull's computers were secure, locked up the offices and left, returning to his apartment in the residential sector called Sahara Square. He changed out his blue dress shirt and black pants and into a thin t-shirt and tight-fitting pants, perfect for slipping into exploration gear.</p><p>He had lived on Zootopian Prospect for seven years. He'd explored half the planet and dived into its waters two-dozen times, but his future other half would never let him hear the end of it if he didn't go the extra mile in protecting himself. For that reason, he also picked up his VP70 pistol and slipped it in his holster, slipped the jacket over his holster and set out for the Car Wash.</p><p>He radioed the mammals who manned the gate on his way, meaning that a red ATV NR8, a small two-seated vehicle with a caged frame, was waiting for him when he got there. After one minute of decontamination he was issued his khaki explorer gear, which included a bag pack, a padded jacket, thick pants and protective boots. Then the gate opened, and he was on his way.</p><p>He drove for less than an hour, tucking into his donut ration during the journey, and spotted the top of the structure above the treeline ten minutes before he arrived at the base. Two marines and two engineers were there, along with the M577 Armored Personnel Carrier they'd used to get to the site.</p><p>Right next to the base of the sensor was the ATV Tuskor and Nishimura had driven. There was no sign of the boar or the wolf.</p><p>Clawhauser swallowed down the last donut and walked over. The marines spotted the feline, recognized him, and sent the only prey mammal in the small group to greet him.</p><p>"Who the hell are you?" One of the engineers, a hippo carrying a sturdy toolbox, asked him with a frown.</p><p>Benjamin responded calmly, having learned that being overly cheerful can be annoying to some mammals. "Clawhauser, Assistant Administrator. I heard about Tuskor and Nishumura and came straight over. Thought I'd see if there's anything I can do to help."</p><p>The hippo scowled. "How about you stay out of our way and go back to pushing donuts."</p><p>The caribou who'd been approaching Clawhauser stopped and spun round. The hippo blinked, taken aback by the intensity of the glare Private Carr was sending his way. His companion, a Philippine Pangolin whose nametag read Ulan Agbayani, hissed, "Barry, shut the fuck up! Sorry, sir, we weren't expecting anyone from Administration to show up."</p><p>"It's fine, really." Clawhauser smiled assuredly. "And never mind the 'sir,' just Clawhauser will do. Or Ben, if you're feeling really friendly."</p><p>Agbayani smiled back, relieved. "Thanks. Sorry. We're just waiting for these guys to finish searching the area so we can get started."</p><p>Clawhauser crossed his arms, which were a little tricky to hold in place in his protective coat. "Any idea what happened to the first two engineers?"</p><p>"No idea. Their vehicle's over there, but there's no sign of them. They didn't even start working."</p><p>"Okay. Unless there's anything else I can do, I think I'll just wait here until the marines finish the search. Hornbull will want to know what's going on."</p><p>"Quiet." Corporal Hayes, a black cow who specialized in using the smart gun even though she wasn't carrying one currently, held up a hoof and listened to her headset.</p><p>Clawhauser held his breath.</p><p>"Repeat that, Private… Say that again… Goddamn static… Good. Damn good. Bring them back here straight away. I said bring them back right away." She lowered her hoof, cursed the static again, and turned to the others. "We found them. Seems they went out of range looking for a component that fell off the top of the structure."</p><p>"That'll be the solar radiation sensor. The one that wasn't responding." Agbayani said.</p><p>Benjamin swallowed uneasily "Do they think it was…"</p><p>"They don't think it's foul play this time." Hayes said. "Remember that storm the night before last? They reckon the sensor got blown off."</p><p>Barry the hippo spoke as the tension in the clearing evaporated, rummaging through his toolbox. "Good thing we're here after all, 'cos putting that thing back in place will take more than two mammals. It'll take about thirty-six hours max for the four of us to fix the damage, haul it back up to the top, and reinstall the device."</p><p>"Park is gonna kill them." Agbayani said simply. "If comms weren't so spotty over here, I'd call her myself just to hear her flip her shit."</p><p>"I'll call her for you." Clawhauser said. "I guess I'm not really needed here, so I'll head back. Contact me if you need any replacement parts delivered."</p><p>"We'll stay here and keep an eye on the workers. Take care, Clawhauser." Hayes said.</p><p>Benjamin tipped his cap and started back toward his ATV. As he climbed back into the seat within the caged frame, his jet-black ears overhead Agbayani whisper furiously to Barry.</p><p>"What the hell is wrong with you? Don't you know who that is?"</p><p>Barry's response what lost to the growl of the ATV's engine.</p><hr/><p>In space, there was no air for sound waves to pass through, and yet the roar of the dropship's engines seemed to come from everywhere, inside and outside. Rochewool and Cudson tried and failed to appear unfazed by the rattling sensation of the dropship plummeting into the abyss, their closed eyes and tight grips betraying their terror. The colonial marines were a different matter, either showing no emotion or in Fangmeyer's case, treating the ride like the Tower of Terror without the associated screaming. The lurch in Judy's stomach still lingered even as the ship tilted forward mid-plunge to face the direction of its destination, and the engines kicked into full gear to alter the vessel's course. She could feel the inertial force pressing her painlessly into the side of her seat and harness, and she saw the same thing happening to Private Nick Wilde and the other passengers.</p><p>What Judy wouldn't give to experience this on a regular basis. If she lived in another world, where recoil meant nothing to a tiny bunny rabbit, she would be.</p><p>Twenty seconds after the drop, artificial gravity was activated, and the dropship became as comfortable as economy class on an earth-based airship. Wolford informed them of the estimated travel time, three hours max, and the harnesses unlocked themselves, though Cudson refused to let go of his. Judy pushed her harness up and crossed her legs on the over-sized seat, saying nothing as she continued to take in this incredible once in a lifetime experience. She listened to the engines. She breathed the cold, stale air. She noticed that Wilde had slipped into a nap, the harness keeping him from falling out his seat. The other marines appeared to have started some sort of rock-paper-scissors tournament. The Vidar crew slowly relaxed in their seats, though they too kept their harnesses in place.</p><p>More than two hours into the journey, Judy's daydream of combat drops in the UD-4 with a pulse rifle in paw were interrupted by a yawn coming from Wilde as he awoke. His bright green eyes blinked open and suddenly met her own.</p><p>"So… how many drops have you done?" Judy asked. She didn't realize that she'd stared in his direction for the entirety of her daydream.</p><p>Wilde rubbed his green eyes. "Twenty. On the UD-4."</p><p>Judy felt a painful twinge in her heart. "And on this one?"</p><p>"Three. We've never used this ship for combat drops, if you're wondering why."</p><p>Judy glanced again at her surroundings, wishing that this vessel had windows. For Wilde, this bumpy ride was no different than a public transport tram, but for her, it was once in a lifetime. "We've been flying for about two hours. Is the flight time usually this long?"</p><p>Wilde shook his head. He didn't seem to mind the interrogation. "Typically, the Avellanos is in orbit when we make the drop, so we're planet-side in minutes. But Mane doesn't want to leave the Vidarunprotected." Wilde raised his harness and slouched in his seat. This fox was starting to look like the lazy sort, the sort that didn't like to work unless they had absolutely no choice in the matter. Judy held back her harsh judgement. He was probably just laid back.</p><p>They sat in uncomfortable silence for some time. Judy occasionally took an interest in what their fellow passengers were doing; Rochewool was typing in a PDA, likely preparing his own report of the incident. Cudson had finally relaxed, and now looked as bored as the marines did. For the most part, however, she kept her attention on Wilde. She kept imagining him holding that flamethrower, which would weigh a ton for a bunny. The black tips of his ears barely passed Fangmeyer's knees.</p><p>So how the holy heck did he make it into the Corps?</p><p>Wolford reported visual contact with Rhamnusia, and ten minutes later, Wilde spoke up.</p><p>"Can I ask you a question, now?"</p><p>"Shoot. Figurately, obviously."</p><p>"What exactly is it you do? On that floating aspirin?"</p><p>"It's a TCL." Judy punctuated every letter of the acronym. It was hard to like him, and she knew that was wrong. So far, he'd done nothing to her. "Transferrable Crime Laboratory. The Company designed it to solve the problem of major crime on remote colonies such as yours. Murders, theft, accidents, that sort of thing."</p><p>"And you manage it all by yourself?" Wilde cocked his head.</p><p>Judy understood his skepticism, but it annoyed her all the same. "It manages itself, mostly. I just collect the evidence and take it back to the lab. Minerva does the rest."</p><p>"Minerva?"</p><p>"State of the art artificial intelligence. One of the only three in existence."</p><p>"Really? Only three?"</p><p>"Technologically she's the equivalent of the APOLLO systems that currently run Company-owned space stations like Sevastopol and Roarcadia."</p><p>The fox whistled. "Talk about sparing no expense."</p><p>"Tell me about it. She has to handle drug analysis, trace evidence, toxicology, geology, linguistics, communication, data transferal to and from the major crime lab back on Earth…"</p><p>"Carrots, you're boasting."</p><p>Judy stopped herself, embarrassed and irritated at the interruption. "Sorry."</p><p>"Nah, it's okay. At least now I know why Mane and Rochewool really wanna that tub safe. We're definitely gonna need it."</p><p>Judy noticed a shadow pass over his face. In fact, his face had fallen when she'd mentioned the sort of crimes the TCL dealt with.</p><p>"Wilde? Is there something I need to know before we land?"</p><p>"Sorry. You'll have to wait 'til you meet the Commander. He'll leave nothing out, I promise."</p><p>Judy reluctantly nodded, just as Wolford gave the order for everyone to return to their seats and hold still as the harnesses locked back in place.</p><p>"Commencing reentry. Hang on tight, we're about to hit some turbulence."</p><p>Sure enough, the dropship started to rumble in the same manner it had when it had begun its journey. Judy's stomach kept bouncing up and down, making it hard for her to think over what Wilde had said. Five minutes later, the ride smoothened once more. Judy felt the slightest of jolts, and then the dropship was still, and the engines slowly fell quiet.</p><p>It was over.</p><p>Judy sighed inwardly as the harnesses unlocked once more, and the door lowered. The journey had been great while it lasted, and she'd likely never set foot on a vessel like this again. It was a bittersweet feeling.</p><p>"Well then, Hopps." Wilde said, a smooth smile back on his long muzzle. "Welcome to Zootopian Prospect."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Fort</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fort Meadowland had its own separate dome, a slightly smaller cage of titanium frame and tri-layered panels that was connected to the colony via a road enclosed in the same protective structure. It was a testament to the technological prowess of the designers that the inhabitants of Fort Meadowland could still breath cool, fresh air, and even feel the breeze pushing its way through their fur and soothe the skin beneath.</p><p>Judy had expected to meet the infamous Commander Mansa Bogo in a big, utilitarian office on the highest floor of the largest building; not in the middle of a hallway in which the only other mammal was a boar cleaning the floor.</p><p>If he had the intention, he'd have probably been the most intimidating mammal Judy had ever met. Dressed in plain khaki and built like a titanium outhouse, if such a thing existed, the cape buffalo had one thick arm folded behind his back as he bent at the waist and reached out the other arm to greet her.</p><p>"Miss Hopps." He said pleasantly enough as he shook her paw with a hoof that was bigger than her head. "Or is it Doctor?"</p><p>"Just Hopps will do, sir." Judy said cheerfully and saluted. Embarrassment ensued as she realized that he'd probably respect her more if she behaved less like a genki girl. Her eyes strayed past his impressive set of curled horns to the skylight, a plain glass square right above their heads. Beyond the skylight she saw the octagonal frame of the dome. "I'd like to know how the dropship was able to get through the dome." She made sure to sound serious this time.</p><p>Bogo released her paw and straightened to his full height. When he wasn't talking, his mouth was pressed in a thin line. Judy had the sense that he wasn't happy to see her. She didn't know why. After all, it was he who had requested her. "There's a hatch built into the top of the dome. It's almost invisible when shut, but if you look closely enough you can see the motors that control it. It doesn't look it from this distance, but they're massive. About as big as the <em>Avellanos</em>'s<em> cannons."</em></p><p>"Incredible." Judy breathed. "When do I get to speak with Administrator Hornbull?"</p><p>"He's away from the office at the moment. As the closest thing to Head of Security, I will be briefing you in his place."</p><p>"Briefing?" Judy asked, now wondering what had been left out of the file that he had to tell her.</p><p>"The situation has changed, Hopps. If you don't mind, I'd like to save the expositing for my office." He gestured down the hallway.</p><p>Slightly taken aback by his bluntness, Judy nevertheless followed him out the hangar to a waiting vehicle. After a ten-minute drive on a road that cut through a short-grass field reminiscent of the plains she'd left behind in Bunnyburrow back on Earth, they reached the Headquarters building. As they made their way to Bogo's office, Judy took in her surroundings yet again. Where the hallways of the colonies she'd visited were generically hexagonal in shape, these rooms were square and rectangular. Where the colonies were colored bronze and silver like integrated circuits, Fort Meadowland was silver and blue like tempered steel. The refrigerated tone of the hallways was contradicted by the lightly clothed mammals which occupied them. Many of them were dressed in plain khaki shirts, showing off their arms. Judy noted that not all of the marines had big muscles, but none of them were smaller than a wolf. Some looked at Judy as she and Bogo passed by.</p><p>The colony and the marine base did have one thing in common. Every now and then they'd pass a circular hatch for the ductwork that ventilated air through the complex.</p><p>Judy had always considered the size of those ducts a security risk; even a fully-grown tiger could fit through them no problem. In fact, one of the cases she'd assisted with involved a hatch just like this. On a space station called Monica Port, a lion had attempted to break into a storage room used for spare ship parts. Not wanting to pay for a new compression cylinder, he'd tried to steal one by using a duct just like this one.</p><p>He'd almost reached the final junction before a hatch suddenly closed on his pelvis.</p><p>Security found him still alive but almost completely cleaved in two, connected only by the skin holding together the crumbled remains of the pelvis. Judy had seen the pictures and had visited the scene after the victim had been extricated. It was the first case that had required her to take counseling afterward. After being forced to pay millions to the victim, the Company designed mandatory hatch sensors to prevent such a costly tragedy from happening again.</p><p>Bogo's office was almost exactly how she imagined it. The ochre glow of a Nordic style ceiling fixture made the room seem much warmer than the ambient iciness of the rest of the building. Two massive maps adorned the walls facing each other, one depicting the layout of Zootopian Prospect and the other depicting a map of the entire planet. On Bogo's ebony veneer desk sat a closed file, a paperweight which resembled an aquarium, and two picture frames which faced away from her.</p><p>Bogo showed Judy to her seat and sat down in the equally black office chair on the opposite side of the desk. He crossed his arms on the desk and looked her in the eye.</p><p>"First off, I'd like to express how relieved I am that you and the <em>Vidar</em> crew survived that incident unharmed. You are damn lucky to be alive."</p><p>Judy knew that Rochewool and Cudson, who by now would have been escorted to their temporary quarters in Sahara Square, were thinking the same thing.</p><p>"Thank you, sir."</p><p>"And I assume that by now you will have read the files I sent you."</p><p>"Yes, sir."</p><p>"And you are confident that you are up to the task? There's been twelve cases of sabotage now. That could be a lot of evidence to work with."</p><p>Judy understood what he meant, and why he looked so unsure about her. "Sir, I think there's a misconception about what exactly my job is. Minerva, the AI who runs the crime lab, is the one who analyses the evidence. I just collect the evidence and conduct basic maintenance."</p><p>"I see. But you haven't answered my question."</p><p>"Yes, sir. I am more than up to the task."</p><p>"Good. Because something happened here after you set off for Rhamnusia." Bogo opened the file, spun it round and pushed it toward Judy. Judy first noticed the tungsten ring on his finger, almost perfectly camouflaged against his grey fur except for a smaller brown stripe. Then her attention was drawn to the photograph pinned to the inside of the file's cover.</p><p>Bogo proceeded to give an abridged version of the file's contents as his frown deepened, enhancing the creases on the corners of his mouth. "Seven days ago, engineer Marco Green was sent to repair a damaged power line on the outer border of the Rainforest Sector. When he didn't report back for two hours, two more engineers were sent to check on him. And found this."</p><p>Judy swallowed. Marco Green was a leopard who'd worked in Zootopian Prospect for three years. He'd been found several yards from the damaged power line with a gory pit in place of an eye.</p><p>"The CME has already concluded that he'd been killed a gunshot to the head. We've not found the bullet, but as you've made clear, collecting evidence is your specialty."</p><p>Judy nodded. "You want me to examine the scene of the murder first."</p><p>"I've had the scene under armed guard since the body was taken to the morgue. You have my word it hasn't been tampered with."</p><p>Judy let out a sudden groan and pressed her fingers to her temple. "Aw crackers. My equipment. My protection suit. It's still on the <em>Vidar</em>. I can't conduct my analysis without the suit or I'll contaminate the crime scene!"</p><p>Though visibly irritated, Bogo held up a hoof. "It's alright, Hopps. As much as this situation irks me, it not your fault. Once the UD-7 refuels, it will return to the <em>Avellanos</em> to pick up another group of marines. I'll have equipment brought on board with them."</p><p>Judy nodded, still feeling furious with herself.</p><p>Bogo seemed to have a sudden thought. He stroked his chin as he pondered this though and then smiled in satisfaction with himself. "Actually, about the suit and equipment, I may have a solution for that."</p><p>He tapped a few buttons on his intercom. "Ben, it's Mansa. You there?"</p><p>A cheerful voice responded. <em>"Always, Chief! What do you need?"</em></p><p>"Is Hornbull available?"</p><p>
  <em>"Sorry, he's still out with Dr. Ewetani."</em>
</p><p>Judy's ears pricked. What was a member of the Company's founding family doing here?</p><p>Bogo grumbled under his breath. "The CST I requested arrived earlier than expected. I could use some help making sure she doesn't get herself lost."</p><p>
  <em>"Sure thing, Chief! I'll take care of it personally."</em>
</p><p>Bogo snorted with a smile. "Ben, I've told you before about calling me Chief."</p><p><em>"To not to. But ending my sentences with Commander sounds weird on my tongue." </em>Bogo shook his head, his smile broadening. <em>"Let me just check where she's staying… apartment 26, row C-5, D block. Burrows Sector."</em></p><p>"After that, call Dr. Carthusia in the Rainforest Lab. Hopps will need to borrow some PPE, a camera and a collection kit."</p><p>
  <em>"I'll call him on the way. Tell Hopps I'll meet her at the monorail station near the south gate."</em>
</p><p>"I appreciate this, Ben. I'll show you just how much tonight."</p><p>Ben laughed. <em>"Tell Hopps to look for the cheetah with the clipboard. See you tonight!"</em></p><p>Bogo took his finger off the intercom and looked at Judy. "That was Benjamin Clawhauser. He's the assistant administrator for the colony. I assume with those ears you've heard all that."</p><p>Judy nodded. "South gate?"</p><p>"It's straight across the road, you can't miss it. Someone will escort you from the base."</p><p>"Thank you, sir. I'll contact you when I get started."</p><p>"I'm not done, Hopps." Bogo leaned forward. Judy felt unable to breathe under his penetrating stare. "The Administrator and myself had some debate as to whether we should request your services. Hornbull especially thought that we could catch the saboteur by ourselves, and they'd turn out to be just some disgruntled employee lashing out against Corporate Animerica. But Marco Green changes everything."</p><p>He closed the file and returned it to his desk drawer.</p><p>"You can't leave the colony without an escort. You can't tell anyone why you're here. You can't do anything relevant to the investigation without telling Administrator Hornbull or myself. You can't go to any sector that isn't residential on your own. Am I clear, Hopps?"</p><p>Judy nodded wordlessly. "Hornbull will likely give you the same spiel when you meet him. There is a killer on Rhamnusia, and the last thing we need is him thinking he'll need to do it again."</p><hr/><p>The serpent raised its arm up in front of its eyeless face and flexed its fingers. Six lethal claws glinted like blades in the sparks that burst from exposed, damaged cables. The gash in its mesoskeleton, where the endoskeleton had broken in the crash and pierced its silicon-based skin, had almost completed closed. Blood still oozed out, dripping into a ragged sizzling hole in the floor of the spacecraft. The other wounds it had sustained, including the gaping hole in its chest where a piece of metal had impaled it, had long since repaired themselves.</p><p>Deep in hibernation, the serpent had sensed a change. It hadn't heard any signs of life, nor had it smelled them. Yet somehow it had understood that life was near. The impregnators had sensed it, too. The serpent had felt their agitation as it awoke, their instincts driving them to scrabble and lash their tails against their prisons in futility.</p><p>When it had awoken, the first thing it had done was return to the room where the impregnators were being kept. But the thick, acid-proof door which had thwarted it so long ago had still been sealed and impenetrable.</p><p>Then the ship made impact, gouging a hundred-foot-wide canyon through a tropical mountain range. The door had malfunctioned as cables and circuits were ripped apart. The tanks had broken free and shattered against the walls, floor and ceiling like test tubes. The impregnators now scuttled around the ruined ship, never straying too far from the only creature that could provide them with hosts. The bodies of the masked beings it had killed, preserved by the manufactured, sterile environment, lay smashed to pieces among the mangled metal.</p><p>The serpent extricated itself from the alcove in which it had slept and began to look for a way out.</p><p>Pushing aside cables as thick as vines, the serpent found its way to the bridge. The elder hunter lay in a crumbled heap near the control panel, the front half of its neck ripped out many decades ago when the serpent had snuck up from behind. Through the clear thick windows, it saw a forest of blue-green leaves and tree trunks as white as bone.</p><p>The serpent caught a unique scent. It peeled back its lips and lowered its jaw, allowing the piston-like inner jaw to emerge. The inner jaw opened and closed, turning left and right as it tasted the air. It soon understood that it was tasting the scent of the plants outside the ship. Escape was close now. So close. It retracted its inner jaw and followed the scent to a crack in one corner of the window. There was a chittering sound as the impregnators crawled out of a broken duct hatch and surrounded the serpent. The serpent hissed and planted both hands on the cracked glass. It lowered its jaw once more.</p><p>The inner jaw locked straight and rigid, and then shot out with incredible speed, striking the center of the crack with enough force to push the glass outward. It felt no pain, only furious fortitude as it retracted its deadly tongue to try again. The next strike created a tiny hole. The serpent used its head from there, striking the glass with the forehead of its long, shelled skull to widen the hole within seconds.</p><p>It crawled through the window and perched itself on the smoldering hot surface of the spacecraft. The impregnators followed, and one of them crawled up the serpent's leg and fixed itself to one of the dorsal tubes that adorned its back. It was an instinctive act attributed only to the queen impregnator, intended to ensure the safety of its precious cargo.</p><p>The serpent flared its tusks, taking in the sights, the sounds and the scents of this new world. The sweeps of its long tail quickened in its growing restlessness.</p><p>Hosts were plentiful here. It could also smell them through the countless smells emanating from the plants and dirt.</p><p>It just had to find them.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Coincidence</h2></a>
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      <p>In the bedroom of Apartment 2, Row A-3, A block, Bogo began the first one arm pullup on the bar which his fiancé had installed after starting their weight loss plan.</p>
      <p>
        <em>One… two…</em>
      </p>
      <p>He held his breath on each pullup and released it with an angry huff. Before leaving, he'd received one last log from Administrator Hornbull. Without having the decency to explain why, the ambitious idiot was staying with Ewetani at the excavation for at least another two days. While a homicidal saboteur was on the loose. While the <em>Vidar</em>crew was still stranded without their ship. While a colony of over two hundred mammals was still in operation and in need of someone to manage it.</p>
      <p>Bogo naturally responded with a log demanding an immediate explanation. That was two hours ago, and he had yet to receive a response.</p>
      <p>What the hell was that rhino thinking? There was a reason the colony had an assistant administrator. It was too large for just one mammal to manage. Bogo wouldn't be much help. He had the fort to take care of, and the new recruits were still coming up short in physical training. When Hornbull got back, he was going to get a strongly worded session on Priorities 101.</p>
      <p>Bogo continued his pullups. <em>Twenty-four… twenty-five… twenty-six…</em> The burn of exertion was burning away his anger, as he'd hoped. His lover wouldn't want to share a couch with him in a bad mood.</p>
      <p>Speaking of which, he heard a voice coming from down the hall.</p>
      <p>"Hey, Mansa! You coming over?"</p>
      <p>Bogo dropped down from the bar and shook his arms off. "Just about!"</p>
      <p>Just in case, he administered himself a spurt of deodorant before making his way to the living room.</p>
      <p>By all logic, he and Ben never should have even considered a relationship. Bogo was a marine grunt who took no shit and had a stick up his ass the length of a hanbo, and Ben was a white-collar worker who couldn't go ten minutes without trying to make friends. One was cynical, where the other was kind. One was hard, where the other was soft. And when one was stuck in a black cloud, the other looked for the silver lining. Bogo had first met him the day he was permanently transferred to Fort Meadowland; Ben had been the first colonist he'd ever spoken to. Bogo didn't believe in love at first sight. He still didn't. Even now he still couldn't explain how their cordial working relationship had evolved to what it was now.</p>
      <p>All he knew was that they connected, just like that. Things developed each time they interacted, which wasn't often. Then one of them took a leap of faith, and then they were hanging out whenever they both had free time. Bogo often took Ben outdoors, showing him the beauty and harshness of nature, and Ben often took Bogo over to his place, reminding him of the benefits of a night watching movies on the couch.</p>
      <p>It really was just like that. Two mammals who never should have gone any further than acquaintances were now only a few months away from getting married.</p>
      <p>In the living room, Ben was at his desk, typing sickly green letters on a clunky computer.</p>
      <p>"I didn't interrupt your workout, did I?"</p>
      <p>"Almost reached one-thousand."</p>
      <p>"Four years ago, I would have believed you." That got a chortle out of Bogo. "Dinner's on the counter. I've just got to finish this report."</p>
      <p>"What's on the menu this time?'</p>
      <p>"Your favorite. I hope."</p>
      <p>Ben kept his big chocolate brown eyes on the black screen as he gave the direction. That was the first thing Bogo had found in common with him, his dedication to his job.</p>
      <p>Bogo picked up the two metal bowls on the bench. Rhamusia salad, tonight. Roasted turquoise vegetables harvested from the Burrows, a grassy part of Rhamnusia where all indigenous plants deemed edible by the Rainforest Zone were sent to be planted and produced in agricultural holdings. Bogo didn't understand why the Company didn't just call them farms.</p>
      <p>Bogo sat down on the couch with the two bowls in hoof and looked at the screen across the room. They were watching <em>War of the Warrens</em> tonight. A minute later Ben joined his side and took the bowl with the tuna in it. Bogo saw then what was on his shirt; big red words screaming GOOD VIBES ONLY. He pressed a button on the remote and started the movie.</p>
      <p>Bogo watched him tuck into his salad, making sure there was tuna on his fork along with the vegetables each time. He'd seen the inside of the cheetah's bridge. It was a mixture of plants harvested from Rhamnusia and fish transported all the way from Earth and other rural colonies.</p>
      <p>Out of curiosity, Bogo asked, "Why wouldn't you think this was my favorite? You know how I feel about roast veg."</p>
      <p>"You always seemed to prefer veg from Earth."</p>
      <p>"I prefer veg that's green-green. This looks like a poison arrow frog sweated all over it."</p>
      <p>"Cheek!"</p>
      <p>The intro sequence of the movie ended. Maybe it was the suspense, but Bogo still had a gnawing feeling in his stomach that was slowing down his meal. "So, how was your day?"</p>
      <p>"Huh?" Ben blinked and looked away from the movie.<br/>"How was your day?"<br/>"Actually pretty cool. A couple of engineers went missing while going out to fix a sensor. Don't freak…" He said quickly when Bogo's expression changed. "They were totally fine. They just went out of range looking for a missing piece. That's what the report was for."</p>
      <p>"I knew that. I send some mammals out to find them."</p>
      <p>Benjamin sighed and lightly smacked his forehead. "Silly me, 'course you did."</p>
      <p>"What did Park say to that?"</p>
      <p>"I wasn't there to see it, but she had a conniption. As soon as they finish repairs they'll be scrubbing air vents for the foreseeable future."</p>
      <p>"Serves them right." Bogo ate another forkful. "Sorry. With everything else that's gone wrong, I was thinking you meant another couple of engineers. You haven't heard from Hornbull recently, have you?"</p>
      <p>Ben paused with his fork in his mouth. "Uh, yeah. He's gone away for a couple of days, hasn't he?"</p>
      <p>"With absolutely no notice whatsoever."</p>
      <p>"I'm sure he has his reasons."<br/>Bogo put down his bowl and fell back against the couch cushion with his arms tightly crossed, glaring at the movie. "He's kissing sweet fluffy ass, that's his reason."</p>
      <p>"Wow."</p>
      <p>"I'm not wrong."</p>
      <p>"Kinda hyperboling though, aren't ya?"</p>
      <p>"I'm still not wrong."</p>
      <p>Ben looked closer at Bogo, ignoring the sound of the invading aliens blasting the hapless mammals on the screen. "Okay, what's up?"</p>
      <p>"Ok, look…" Bogo sighed. "Too much has gone wrong lately, and I don't like it."</p>
      <p>"You don't like that the Company only sent one rabbit."</p>
      <p>"I don't like a lot of things the Company does."</p>
      <p>"Look, Hopps seems to have a good head on her shoulders, and Minerva's doing most the work. I think they know what they're doing."</p>
      <p>"Minerva's a machine. Machines make mistakes. And one little rabbit's going to be the target of every carnivore on Rhamnusia. The Company's not taking this situation seriously."</p>
      <p>"Or maybe they're assuming that the Colonial Marines will protect her."</p>
      <p>"We're not baby-sitters!"</p>
      <p>"Hey, I just don't want you to write her off because she's a bunny."</p>
      <p>"They're writing <em>me</em> off as an alarmist! I just…" He stopped himself and sighed. This what he'd tried to avoid. "It's not just Hopps."</p>
      <p>"… Well?" Ben asked with subtle impatience.</p>
      <p>"I don't want anyone else getting killed."</p>
      <p>"Nu-uh, we're still on Hopps. What else is going on? Is it this mysterious excavation the Company's doing? The <em>Vidar</em>? Something you're not telling me?"</p>
      <p>Bogo sighed. He was not doing this. He was not going to let this damage what they had. He grabbed the remote and paused the film. "Fine. There is a possibility that the object that hit the <em>Vidar</em> has landed somewhere on this planet."</p>
      <p>"For real?"</p>
      <p>"I'm going to send a team to look for it first thing in the morning. It's very likely just a meteorite, and the science division will want to study it. They could discover a new material, we don't know."</p>
      <p>"You haven't told Hornbull yet, have you?"</p>
      <p>"I wanted to keep this under wraps until we learn more."</p>
      <p>"Want me to tell him? It might convince him to come back early from the butt-kissing."</p>
      <p>"I would love that. But you know what, he doesn't have to come back right away. I think the murder's just got me wound up. I promised you when I accepted this promotion, I'm not putting my life on the line anymore."</p>
      <p>With the remote he resumed the film. Ben kept his attention on Bogo. "Don't you miss the action?"</p>
      <p>"Why would you think that?"</p>
      <p>"You go to the shooting range every other day. When you don't, you spar with the recruits."</p>
      <p>Bogo paused. "Yes, fine, I miss it. But I wouldn't give this up for the world. It's not worth it. I'm lucky I got out before PTSD came along and ruined everything."</p>
      <p>"It wouldn't have ruined everything."</p>
      <p>"Tell that to the Franks."</p>
      <p>"Okay, fine, but murder aside this doesn't seem that major. We've bumped up security since the last one-"</p>
      <p>"It's too coincidental." The moment Bogo blurted it out, the feeling in his stomach eased just a little. "The <em>Vidar</em>, the excavation, the murder, all of it. I keep thinking that something major <em>is</em> about to happen."</p>
      <p>He saw the look on Ben's face and felt terrible. Why couldn't he have lied to him just this once? "Forget it. The Company's right, I'm making a big deal out of nothing."<br/>Ben looked at the paused movie. Bogo couldn't tell if he was convinced. "Maybe this movie wasn't a good idea. Let's put on something else."</p>
      <p>"Crazy as it sounds, I'm up for a comedy." Bogo wasn't really, but anything to make them both feel better.</p>
      <p>Ben brightened. "How about… cringe comedy?"</p>
      <p>Bogo nodded. Then he saw the naughty glint in his betrothed's eyes. "Which one?"</p>
      <p>"Guess."</p>
      <p>"<em>Friday the 13th?</em>"</p>
      <p>"<em>Howard the Duck.</em>"</p>
      <p>Bogo grimaced. "No."</p>
      <p>Ben grinned. "You agreed to cringe comedy."</p>
      <p>"Not to that abomination!"</p>
      <p>"I'll skip past the condom scene this time, I promise."</p>
      <p>"Skip the entire film and I'll make dinner tomorrow."</p>
      <p>"It's just one scene."</p>
      <p>"Second warning, Ben."</p>
      <p>"They didn't even do anything!"</p>
      <p>"Final warning."</p>
      <p>"It'll be over before you know-"</p>
      <p>Bogo grabbed him just as he was getting up, but the combination of standing up and lurching forward threw off his balance. The next thing he knew he was fully on the couch, Ben between him and the cushions. A second passed, and then Ben started to laugh. Bogo chortled along with him. Overreacting like that, he really must be highly strung. Perhaps they were right, and he was looking for trouble when there wasn't any. Aside of course from the saboteur.</p>
      <p>Ben reached up and touched Bogo's face. "Feel better now?"</p>
      <p>Matter of fact, being up close and personal was making Bogo tingle in all the right places. "Getting there."</p>
      <p>Ben's face flushed but he held himself together long enough to say one more thing. "Just promise me you won't go looking for trouble."</p>
      <p>"On my honour."</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>The planet Rhamnusia glowed acid green in the darkness of the bridge, a flawless holographic imitation which pointed out the location of <em>Dhi'haka</em> and the Earth Colony in blood red blots. The dark yellow eyes of the Hunter were focused on <em>Dhi'haka</em> in particular, the source of the signal which had called him away from Homeworld so urgently.</p>
      <p>The alarm, silent and unnoticed by the inhabitants of Rhamnusia, had blared like a dying animal as the Hunter sat in the great black throne, making preparations with the other members of his hunting party for an excursion. Their prey would have been the <em>Vy'drach</em>, great winged beasts which soared over the vast deserts to the west of the First City. The Hunter hadn't claimed such a trophy since he was a newly blooded youngster, his first kill after completing the ancient rite of slaying a Serpent. Many years had passed since then. Now here he was, an Elite, one rank below the leader of his clan, forced to abandon the hunt to investigate the cause of the alarm.</p>
      <p>He was not angry at this development, for his obligation to duty was itself a great honor. <em>Dhi'haka</em> was a place forbidden to all but a select few, and the Hunter was one of them. It was his sworn duty to watch over <em>Dhi'haka</em>, and the colony which so far remained unaware of its existence. The Hunter slid a black claw down the arm of the metallic throne in which it sat, summoning the robotic arm which rose up from behind the chair upon which it sat and presented a red holographic screen. He called up the report from the last orbital survey conducted on the planet several years ago. No breaches reported. Pollution from the colony was so minimal that damage to the ecosystem was almost non-existent. The Earth creatures had learned from their mistakes on their home planet, it seemed.</p>
      <p>The Hunter's mandibles clicked. He made a mental checklist of the weaponry he had brought for this impromptu mission. Then he pressed several buttons on the other arm of the chair, sending a quick update back to Homeworld. It would reach Rhamnusia by nightfall and observe from orbit to examine the situation from a safe distance. If he deemed it safe enough, he would go planet-side the next night to investigate further.</p>
      <p>And if his suspicions were correct, and the colonists had somehow discovered the location of <em>Dhi'haka</em>, then their transgression would be repaid in blood.</p>
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